. . . An' Glenn called to him, 'Ruff, that
sheep-dip won't go through your tough hide, but a bullet will!"
Not long after this incident Carley started out on her usual afternoon
ride, having arranged with Glenn to meet her on his return from work.
Toward the end of June Carley had advanced in her horsemanship to a point
where Flo lent her one of her own mustangs. This change might not have had
all to do with a wonderful difference in riding, but it seemed so to
Carley. There was as much difference in horses as in people. This mustang
she had ridden of late was of Navajo stock, but he had been born and raised
and broken at Oak Creek. Carley had not yet discovered any objection on his
part to do as she wanted him to. He liked what she liked, and most of all
he liked to go. His color resembled a pattern of calico, and in accordance
with Western ways his name was therefore Calico. Left to choose his own
gait, Calico always dropped into a gentle pace which was so easy and
comfortable and swinging that Carley never tired of it. Moreover, he did
not shy at things lying in the road or rabbits darting from bushes or at
the upwhirring of birds. Carley had grown attached to Calico before she
realized she was drifting into it; and for Carley to care for anything or
anybody was a serious matter, because it did not happen often and it
lasted.
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